


When the Party's Over

by Love_you_a_latte



Category: Black Widow (Movie 2020), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drinking, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, On the Run, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Red Room (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-24 20:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22044133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_you_a_latte/pseuds/Love_you_a_latte
Summary: Natasha Romanoff is waiting for information to begin her hunt for a mystery man who is trying to hide another Red Room program. She meets with various members of the old Avengers team to gather what Intel she can, and we see how they've been holding up.Note: This is set after Captain America: Civil War. I have no idea what the Black Widow movie is gonna actually be like, but this is my input after seeing the trailer. The fic and its chapters will be short, but I need something smaller to do on the side, so here we go. "Mild Language" tag is not necessarily factual, I just put it on all of my works in case I let a bad word slip.Enjoy :)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Maria Hill & Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson, Nick Fury & Natasha Romanov, Scott Lang & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov
Kudos: 19





	1. Night One

**Author's Note:**

> Since the first two chapters are insanely short, I'm posting them both tonight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve.

Night One:

Natasha Romanoff ran her index finger along the rim of the glass, listening as the ringing sound it made barely reached her ears over the music. The night lights in the outdoor café reflected off the glass and into her tired eyes, which occasionally glanced up to observe the visitors who milled about. She felt small sitting on the tiny stool, but never less than. She could take down anyone in seconds.

The crowds began to thin as the night dragged on, and a single face began to catch Natasha's attention. She gently tapped the toe of her boot against the table leg as she observed him, sitting in the corner. Steve Rogers. They weren't supposed to both be in any public place at once, because even hoodies and sunglasses can't hide a celebrity, but she needed answers. As the crowds grew even smaller, and the remaining patrons became increasingly intoxicated, Romanoff made her move. She slipped into the shadows seamlessly, reappearing next to Steve.

"It's been a little while," she said, the corners of her mouth turning up into a half-grin. He nodded.

"You said you needed me?" His voice was low, his eyes never meeting hers. He had changed in the last year, and it wasn't just the beard.

"I need to find someone. He's...an old friend." She knew he didn't believe her. But that didn't matter.

"What's the name?" He glanced over quickly.

"Anthony Masters."

Steve nodded. Their meeting was over. As quickly as it had been, she was back in the same seat, and he was gone. Natasha continued to run her finger along the rim of her glass, only pausing when a waiter refilled it. She watched the bubbles float to the top, barely managing a "thank you", so lost in her thoughts. Visions of ballerinas, perfectly poised, and whitewashed surgery room walls, flashed before her eyes. But if those nightmares were too real, she didn't show it. Continued watching, continued waiting.

The last customer left, and the exhausted cashier handed her a check. She paid in cash, and left through the back door, into the night, only looking back to watch the him turn off the lights and lock up.

____________

Almost as soon as Natasha flicked the lights on, she was met with a fist hurtling towards her at full speed. She deflected, sweeping her legs under her opponent. But the attacker jumped, throwing her leg at Romanoff's face. They fought back and forth, landing hit after hit, until Natasha finally pinned her down with a foot and turned on the lights.

"I thought you were an intruder," the blonde-haired attacker spit in a heavy Russian accent. Natasha lifted her foot.

"I'm starting to think that you enjoy fighting me," she said, strolling into the hotel room, flicking on lights as she went.

"Any luck?" Yelena asked.

"I've got someone on the case. But I don't know how long it will take them to find answers" Natasha admitted, sitting on the nearest bed to untie the laces of her boots.

"Well, tell them to hurry up."

Without undressing or brushing her teeth, she stretched her sore muscles out on top of the covers. Running her hand under the pillow to hold the handgun underneath it, she let the weariness of the day pull her eyelids shut. Yelena scoffed, but turned off the lights and silently crept into bed. Right as she was getting sleepy, Natasha's phone buzzed. She pulled it from her back pocket slowly, and squinted at the screen.

:Nice to see you again.

It was an unknown number, but, with a sad smile, she tucked the phone close to her chest, and drifted off to sleep.


	2. Night Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda.

Night Two:

Natasha was back at the café, sometime before midnight, sipping mango Seltzer water. The neon signs made the drink look like it was on fire, or producing its own light. She stared at it intently, even more exhausted than last night. She had watched each person enter the café, order, sit down, and talk, she watched some students pull out laptops and books, folders and granola bars. She had even seen one pour RedBull into his Sprite when he thought the waiters and waitresses weren't looking. She had watched couples come and go on dates, ordering the most expensive food and chatting over the music so closely that their noses almost touched. She had even seen a few games of footsie. She had watched middle-aged men come in, beer bellies pressed against the table ends, ordering drink after drink. She had watched groups of young people dance and laugh and drink the night away, happy to be young. And she had watched the bubbles in her Seltzer rise to the surface. It was another slow night, and she wondered if she should have even showed up at all. But she was thankful that she was safe for now. Until a familiar face entered through the back door.

As Wanda took a seat next to Natasha, she shifted uncomfortably, obviously noticing her elder's disagreement with her presence.

"I didn't want to come," she whispered, leaning in towards Natasha. Her Auburn hair feel in front of her face, masking it with shadow.

"But Vis and I are going away, and we don't know when we'll be back. I thought..." Her eyes drifted to the group of young people dancing on the floor, and a look of tiredness and grief played across her beautiful features.

"You want to meet up now, instead of our scheduled time," Natasha finished. Wanda didn't answer. Her eyes continued drifting, and Romanoff could see longing in them. Longing to be human again. She rested her hand on her friend's arm, attempting to call her back into reality.

"How is the Vision?" She asked carefully, still watching the movements of the other patrons around them.

"He's... Good, I guess. We're both tired."

"I know. It's been a long year for all of us. The Sokovia Accords, the imprisonment, the running and hiding. It's taken a toll." There was a long pause before Natasha continued. "But we have to keep going. This is our only chance to keep fighting. And, whether they realize it or not, this crazy world needs us."

Wanda nodded, and leaned in. Tasha wrapped her toned arms around the girl, and place a featherlight kiss on her hair.

"We're going to make it," she promised, though she didn't know exactly what that meant.


	3. Night 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New installment ☺️ Enjoy!

Natasha stared at the tabletop dappled with reflections of neon light, sipping her latte slowly. Her black pixie wig and lipstick combined with a black cocktail dress and stillettos helped her blend in, but the woman sitting next to her made no effort to disguise anything. Yelena, in fact, wore the same expression she did all the time: her resting bitch face. The women were certainly an interesting pair, but not enough to draw serious attention to themselves.

"Are you sure he's coming?" Yelena asked skeptically, her right eyebrow raised. She had kicked back in her chair, arms folded, feet propped up on the chair across from her.

"This isn't exactly a low-profile job. If it was, we'd be doing it," Natasha reminded her. "But we don't exactly have the favor that he does."

"People are a lot less likely to report a hero than a couple of assasins," she agreed, and the women shared a look.

When someone sat down across from them, Natasha had to stop herself from reaching for her hidden gun. Yelena didn't even try. Her knife, the blue steel stamped with the Red Room insignia, was held firmly in her hand.

"What are two lovely ladies like you doing here on a night like this?" Sam Wilson asked, his unmistakable smile completing his "undercover" look of a leather jacket and sunglasses. Sunglasses in a night café. Natasha smiled warmly. Yelena didn't.

"It's good to see you, birdbrain," Nat admitted.

"Yeah, I know. So, I heard you called the old man up for something? He didn't tell me what for, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to check up on you."

"And who are you?" Yelena interrupted, gazing apprehensively at this new tablemate from her leaned back position. Sam held his hand out, his grin never faltering.

"Call me birdbrain," he said, and Natasha almost giggled. Almost.

"So you're one of the fugitives?" She glared at Yelena.

"I guess you could say that. So, Nat, what have you been up to?"

"Looking for an Anthony Masters. He's been causing some problems lately." She rubbed her thumb over the handle of the mug. It had become an anxious habit of hers: rubbing her thumbs against whatever she was holding.

"He's doing a lot more than causing problems," Yelena countered, her voice rising in volume. Tasha gave her a warning look.

"The point is, we need to know what he's capable of. The old man can pull some strings that I can't," she admitted.

"Not surprised. Even if he is a criminal, most people would drop everything to follow Cap--to follow him."

"What's so great about a muscle man in blue spandax?" Yelena scoffed, and for what felt like the fiftieth time that night, Nat could not provide a look sufficient enough to express her annoyance. Sam laughed.

"Look, all I know is, he can be pretty convincing," he said, leaning back in his chair, and she wondered how a personality like his ever succeeded in blending in anywhere.

One of the waitresses Natasha had been watching made eye contact, and strolled over to their table. Yelena stared back, and Sam smiled just as wide as ever, the lights glittering on the rims of his sunglasses, illuminating the figure of the waitress in their lenses.

"Can I get you kids anything?" She was probably harmless, but any older woman who felt uncomfortable might report something. They had to stay on their toes.

"Yes please! I'll have your egg and sausage breakfast sandwich."

"Great choice. Anything for you ladies?" She puckered her painted lips, and waited patiently. Without looking at the menu, Natasha replied.

"No thanks, I'm still enjoying what I have." She held up her latte with a smile as confirmation.

The woman nodded, her dangling, purple earrings clicking together.

"And for you?"

Yelena didn't respond, just stared the woman evenly in the eye. A swift kick to the ankle did nothing to her expression.

"Well, ok, then... I'll be right back with you sandwich!" She finished awkwardly, leaving once Sam had thanked her.

"What was that for?" Nat asked incrediously. 

"I didn't want to order."

With a sigh, she decided that this was the last time Yelena could come with her on any mission. Even if this was also the first time.

"Don't like people too much, huh?" Sam offered.

"No." Was the only response he got.

"So, Sam," Natasha jumped in to salvage whatever joy was left, "how have you been?"

His expression instantly changed. And she was sure that if he had no sunglasses on, there would have been grief and fear in those eyes.

"Well, the hotels aren't exactly five star. And work isn't easy to come by. But, I make it work. I'm more worried about you."

"Don't be. I've got my family." But even as she said that, Natasha wasn't sure if she meant it. "family" was an interesting word, and it meant a lot of things, but probably not her ragtag group of Red Room graduates. Even the great spy couldn't hide the uncertainty from Sam, but he didn't say anything about it.

"Good. I'm glad. We need all the help we can get."

Natasha's attention was drawn to something catching the light from the darkest corner of the café. Something metallic. And, without a word, all three parties followed her gaze, collected themselves, and got up to leave.

"Where are you kids headed so fast? I've got a breakfast sandwich right here," their waitress said, and Sam took the snack right off the plate with a quick thank you and a hurried excuse before continuing out the door at a pace just slow enough to seem normal.

They had all seen the microphone, and the glint of blue steel where her shirt rose up above her waistline.

It was time to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beautiful subscribers ♥️  
> Let me know what you think! Your comments motivate me!


	4. Night 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about Scott. Need I say more?

Natasha glared at the man standing in front of her, and clutched the mug in her hand tighter. Scott Lang was far from inconspicuous. He had put on a fake mustache and some bifocals, which was a better disguise than any of the other fugitives she had met, but the fake mustache was the kind you get in a plastic-wrapped set from the dollar store, and his bifocals had a massive crack in one lense. 

"Look, I'm sorry. I know you probably don't have the time, but I really need this."

Romanoff looked him up and down, weighing the options in her head. She didn't know him or his "client" enough to feel even a little safe, and he didn't seem sure of himself. One swift kick to the shins and he'd be down for the count. One swing at the nuts and he'd tell everything he knew to anyone trying to find her. Besides his pathetic facial disguise, he also wore a Baskin Robbins uniform that looked like it had lived in the bottom of the dustiest closet on the planet for over a century.

"What's in it for me?" She asked, eyebrow cocked, head tilted to one side. The tips of her bright pink wig brushed her shoulders, and it tilted a little precariously. Good wigs were expensive, so she settled for the cheap Halloween ones.

Scott licked his lips nervously, and shifted his weight on and off each foot. He could hardly look her in the eye.

"I can... I can set up a surveillance system for your home?" He offered nervously, but back-tracked when Natasha didn't respond.

"How about I get my client to make you a bracelet? Or a hair tie?" His voice got increasingly high-pitched as he spoke, and the assassin almost laughed at how terrified he seemed.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to sign a picture of myself--which is illegal to distribute since I broke the law, by the way--give it to you to pass on to a mystery client that I don't know, and you'll make me a friendship bracelet?"

Lang looked both ways, and plopped down on the seat across from her. He leaned in like he was about to tell some big secret.

"Actually, it's for my daughter. Cassie. She's your biggest fan. I think she thinks you're a cooler superhero than me. But anyway, I just really want to surprise her with something special for her birthday. Please?"

This man was supposed to be locked down on house arrest, and forbidden to interact with any of the fugitive supers, and here he was, breaking almost every law known to man just to get an autograph from Black Widow for his daughter. It was endearing, albeit foolish.

In any other case, Natasha would have refused. If anyone was paying attention, and witnessed this interaction, she could be in serious trouble. She already had to ask Yelena to take out the Red Room agent they saw the previous night. But there was something about this man in a fake mustache, cracked glasses, and a bright pink shirt and blue apron that made her say yes.

"Thank you so, so much!" He said, trying and failing to keep his voice down. Nat didn't have the heart to glare at him.

She signed the photo, with a short message, and waved him off. He smiled, and practically skipped out of the café.

"I don't know why you put up with these people," Yelena said from the table across from her. She held a phone to her head, so it seemed like she was on a call, but she was looking straight at Romanoff.

Natasha shook her head. She didn't know either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand another extremely short chapter by me.  
> Let me know what you thought!!

**Author's Note:**

> If you have ANY feedback at all, I'd love to hear it in the comments below!


End file.
